A Cowboy for Christmas (2 page)

* * * * *

Hell, he shouldn’t have made the remark about the dirty vagina. Or the vomit, for that matter. It was just a joke—sort of. He wasn’t going to eat that Constipated Canyon bar and smile for the camera.

Still, he’d offended his boss. Avalee Byrd was signing his sponsor checks, which gave him money to compete. He needed Rawhide’s backing.

Very gently, he removed the bar from her hand and set it aside. But he didn’t want to stop touching her. Beneath his fingers, her wrist was delicate yet strong. He’d bet she could rope and ride as well as a rodeo gal. He’d also bet his new spurs that she’d fit like a custom saddle under him.

His Wranglers grew tight in the fly, and he resisted the urge to shift on the bench. “I apologize for my big mouth. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She pulled free of his touch. “You really don’t like the energy bar?”

“Have you tasted it?”

She compressed her lips, which only made him rock-hard. When she shook her head, her bun wobbled. What he wouldn’t give to loosen it, to have all that rich honey-brown hair tumble over his hands.

With her standing so near, it was hard to focus on making an apology. All he wanted to do was—

Inspiration struck. “Look, why don’t we postpone this shoot. Let me take you to lunch as an apology.” Dusty met her gaze. Damn, she had a sweet girl-next-door vibe. Add long legs and hips he wanted to grip tight and she was exactly his type. Spikes of lust hit his system.

“Lunch sounds good. Beats energy bars,” Ryan said.

Avalee whirled on him, a glare darkening her pretty features. Seeing a bull about to plow down a fighter waving a red flag, Dusty stood and ran interference.

“Ryan, I was gonna tell you that one of the ropin’ teams is looking for a photographer. Some magazine?
Western Horseman
maybe?” Dusty scratched his jaw as if trying to remember.

Ryan’s eyes bulged. “They need a photographer for
Western Horseman
?”

Pointing toward the exit, Dusty said, “Look for Bickel and Brown. They should be in the barn. You know how to get there?”

But Ryan was already rushing around, packing away his camera equipment in the big leather bag. “Yeah, I know where it’s at. Avalee, call me when you’re ready for Dusty.”

Ignoring the photographer, Dusty turned his attention to the beautiful—and angry—woman standing so close. He gave her his best crooked smile he hoped would charm her as much as it had his momma through the years. “How ‘bout that lunch?” He offered his arm.

She rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t stop the grin from taking over his face. “Fine,” she groaned.

He looked around her booth. “Anything you need to do here?”

“Let me grab security and ask someone to watch the booth for me. Most country folk are honest and wouldn’t steal, but you can’t be too trusting.” She vanished into the crowd, offering him a brief view of her backside in fitted jeans.

Before she returned, he’d signed six autographs and had his photo taken with several people. He even posed with a little girl while she recorded a short vid of them both blowing kisses at the camera.

When he looked up again, Avalee had returned. Not only had she brought a guard to watch her booth, but at some point she’d freshened up. His stomach clenched, along with parts much lower and less polite to talk about.

Her bun was gone, her long hair flowing around her waist. Much more hair than he’d guessed, and so much worse for his libido. Now he wanted to feel it fall over his hands as he gripped her hips and eased her down on his cock.

Biting off a groan, he didn’t hesitate to reach for her arm. He cupped her elbow and plunged into the crowd.

As they navigated the space, people called out to her. Then they saw who she was with and did double-takes. When they approached, she would smile and introduce him as the new face of Rawhide. Which was his cue to start talking about himself, but he was too interested in hearing what she had to say.

He learned that her father had been recovering from a recent knee surgery but was back behind the desk, barking orders. Her tone grew quieter and he discovered that a friend had put down a good horse after a rapid sickness. Avalee was liked and respected—and smart as a whip.

By the time they reached the exit, he was burning to get her alone.

“Where are we going? There’s a food court—”

“That ain’t my idea of lunch, sugar. I want to sit down. Ya know…at a table that’s not sticky with the last guest’s food.”

Five minutes later he was seated at a white linen-topped table with a napkin in his lap. Avalee glanced around as she flipped open her napkin too. “We’re not dressed for this place.”

Men in business suits and women in pearls surrounded them. Yeah, he’d chosen one of the better restaurants on the strip, mainly because the service took forever. A bonus when you wanted to keep talking to the woman you were with.

He turned her name over in his mind. What a name. What a woman. After speaking with her on the phone and corresponding via email, he’d had a vision of a pinched, orderly librarian-type. He was so wrong. Naughty librarian, maybe. With legs like that, she sure would look hot in a pair of thigh-high pantyhose.

He searched her face as she lifted a goblet of ice water to her lips. She looked like a kid plugging his nose before sipping medicine. He almost laughed.

As soon as she took a drink, she relaxed and shot him a sheepish smile. “I was expecting tap water.”

When he smiled, he felt it spread all the way up to his eyes.

“You really didn’t need to take me to lunch. You needn’t be sorry for speaking your mind.”

He leaned his elbows on the table. “Does that mean you agree the bar tastes like vomit and smells like—”

She thrust a hand inches from his face. “Don’t even say it!”

He chuckled and sat back. Avalee stared at him, and he held her gaze a beat too long. She squirmed, and damn, was that cute.

“So while we’re still on speaking terms, why don’t we discuss your role in Rawhide?” Directing a long lock of honeyed hair behind her ear, she drew her goblet to her lips again. Suddenly he had the urge to order a bottle of good wine and get her tipsy. See if she was less uptight after knocking back a few.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked.

“What way?” It was back—his smile. He was always easygoing, but he didn’t typically smile so much.

“Like…” Her lips fell open, drawing his gaze to her mouth. Her lips were small but pouty. And he had a feeling she knew how to use them. “Never mind.”

The waitress arrived to tell them the specials.

“The lobster’s amazing here. I suggest that,” Dusty said to Avalee.

“All right, I’ll have the lobster.”

He held up two fingers to the waitress. She grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure thing, Mr. Waite.”

“Please, that’s my pa. I’m Dusty.”

The waitress left with a bounce in her step, and he returned his attention to the woman opposite him.

She had a habit of fiddling with her hair. It was driving him crazy. If his cock got any harder, it would bump the underside of the table.

“Looks as if you have a fan,” she said.

He waved a hand. “I have lots of fans. Now tell me about the campaign.”

A sparkle lit her blue-green eyes as she launched into an enthusiastic discussion of her visions, his role in them and future marketing goals.

“We’ll have quarterly photo shoots or whenever there’s a new product reveal, and—are you listening at all?” The breathy quality of her tone drowned him in visions of his big king-sized hotel bed and soft sheets. Damn, he wanted to spread her hair all over his pillows and do bad things to her.

“I know all this.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, it’s in the nineteen-page contract I spent hours poring over before I gave my John Hancock.”

“You know about our new products rolling out next year? The line of soups?”

“Yep,” he drawled.

She pushed out her plump lips in what could be called a pout from a less mature woman. “I suppose you think the soups are a bad call.”

“As long as none taste like vomit, I think it’s a fine idea.”

“But you wouldn’t eat them.”

“Sugar, I know good food, but I’m not too picky so I’d try the soups. Now my taste in women is very different.”

Her eyes flared just enough to let him know he’d piqued her interest. “How so?” Her neck was long and arching, and the way she held herself spoke of good training in the saddle.

Leaning across the table again, he studied her beautiful eyes rimmed with dark lashes and stopped caring about the whys. Why he was so drawn to her. Why he shouldn’t flirt with somebody who held the reins of his livelihood.

He’d never been a man who hesitated—couldn’t afford to. One heartbeat too long in the saddle and he was out thousands of dollars.

He wasn’t waiting around before he made a move with Avalee either. She was the most interesting woman he’d met in forever. The tightness in his jeans said his hormones were on board too.

“I know a beautiful woman when I see one. But it’s not often I see one with so much going on up here.” He tapped a finger to his temple. Her cheeks grew pink as she realized he was complimenting her.

So damn cute. He wanted to keep those roses in her cheeks all day. And at night, he wanted to redden another set of cheeks as he pounded into her tight body.

“Th-thank you.”

“No, thank you. It’s a privilege to work with a woman who has the brain to run a huge corporation and also turns so many heads.”

She fiddled with her hair and her napkin and finally started talking about the people in her neighboring booth fighting. Just then their meals arrived, and he was drowned in more dirty daydreams when he watched her pop some lobster into her mouth. Her eyes slid closed as she chewed.

“You like?” He stared at her lips, shiny with butter, pouty and altogether delicious-looking. He’d like to sample these goods and skip the energy bars.

“Delicious. Thank you for recommending it. Now tell me about the competition.” Using her fingertips, she cracked open a hot roll. Steam puffed out, and she actually leaned in to catch a whiff. “Mmm. These remind me of my momma’s rolls.”

He’d been on a lot of dates in his life. Had a few longer relationships and plenty of one-night stands. But never had he learned so much about a woman in the first few hours of meeting her. She was like a complex origami. Each fold hid another little secret. And the peeks she gave him only spurred him to want more.

He flagged down the waitress and ordered that wine.

Avalee eyed him, and he shrugged. “What? It’s Vegas.”

A band was set up in the corner, playing some soft Christmas music he’d tuned out long ago. But when they struck a new song, she groaned. “I wish Vegas didn’t love that song so much. I’ve heard it five times today counting now.”

His grin widened, and he moved as if to stand. “Want me to go tell them to stop?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “No! Sit down!”

Chuckling, he dropped back into his chair and leaned his elbows on the table to look into her eyes. “In case you’re wondering, I don’t really carry any weight around here. I’m just another cowboy.”

“That’s not true. You’re well-known. A celebrity.”

He waved a hand. “The place is crawling with celebs. Isn’t that Jennifer Aniston over there?”

She whipped around to see. Then with precise nonchalance, turned back to face him. “I think you’re right. Interesting. So please tell me about the rodeo finals.”

She picked up her fork again, and he admired her delicate fingers. She wore no rings, and that suited her. Most of the Buckle Bunnies he saw on a daily basis were primped out in as much bling as possible. It took a man half an hour to strip everything off her. With Avalee, he’d get down to basics in ten seconds flat.

Ten seconds too long, in his opinion.

“I’m ready to ride and hit some good numbers. We’ve got a good pool of broncs to draw from. Plenty I’ve ridden before, but a few are new to me.”

She leaned forward, chewing and swallowing a bite of roll before speaking. God, could she get any sexier? His gaze latched onto hers, and that adorable blush was back in her rounded cheeks.

“How important are the horses? If you draw a bad one, can you still pull off a win?”

He pressed his lips into a firm line. The papers he’d signed said if he failed to rank in the top three in the finals the contract would be terminated. Which meant no sponsor.

And worse, his father and brother would rub it in his face every holiday gathering. Their big flashy buckles were in a glass case in the living room for everyone to see. There was still room for a third—his.

He pushed out a sigh. “I can handle any horse.” No point in letting doubts creep in. He was going to win—no question. But he’d have a lot more drive if she were in the audience. “Why don’t you come watch tonight? I can get you a good seat.”

A new look was on her pretty face—something calculating. Did she believe he was playing her?